Death Eaters: A History
by Sir Chris
Summary: A person's image is not always reality. A psychotic dark lord is not always calm and reasonable. His minions do not always obey him faithfully, nor are they always so sane themselves. Delve in to the 1970s with Voldemort, his followers, and Dumbledore.


**A/N: **A person or two may recognize this story for what it is: A rewrite of a five year old story, my first on the website. For those who are reading this from my Naruto fanfic you might be interested to know this brand of humor and being an avid Harry Potter fan is what got me into fanfiction as a whole. This chapter is twice as large as the original one was, which surprised me. I think I improved the writing quite a bit since then, although after five years I would hope I'd be capable of that.

This remake is dedicated to Courtney, a reviewer of the original story who said I brought shame to all of fanfiction with this and that I should never, ever write again. Thanks, I always did like encouragement.

For first time readers, hopefully you will enjoy my insanity.

**Chapter 1: People to Name, People to Maim**

There is much to be said about a name. Names are powerful creations that can cause a wide range of emotions. However, a name must be known if it ever wishes to hold power over others. Many years ago the name of the dark lord Voldemort was not feared to be spoken because it was not yet known in the world. The man, still wholly a man, Tom Riddle, had kept his many years of dark rituals and slowly building power to himself. It would be many years still before the papers would label him the greatest dark lord in one hundred years. Further still before he would meet the baby Harry Potter one Halloween, set to fulfill his destiny to reign over the world only to be rebuked by a child who, in every conceivable possibility, was as defenseless as defenseless came. There were no orphans yet, no widespread terror and fear, and to all but the most wizened and attuned wizards, no dark lord ready to strike at any moment. In fact, many of his would-be followers could testify to the fact that the man was beyond childish and petty after their first organized meeting. Of course, none of them had the stones to say anything like that anywhere near his face, as they had swiftly learned such commentary had dire consequences for their ability to live and breathe.

The meeting had just started as Voldemort stood before a crowd of his followers. He gazed at them like a proud father would his own children. Which shows that Voldemort got full marks in his course "How to manipulate a sucker like a Slytherin" by Salazar Slytherin, as Voldemort would have fed them all into a black hole if it meant even an ounce more power for him. At the moment, it did not. _Sadly_.

"Greetings my loyal followers. It pleases me to no end to see so many bright young minds out in the audience tonight. I am handing out pamphlets now, please take the time to read them briefly." Voldemort motioned for a pale young man, let's call him "Severus Snape" for kicks, to start passing out the pamphlets. As everyone began to read it over Voldemort took a sip from his _pure_ spring water and coughed into his wand to re-establish the voice-amplifying charm.

"Wand check, wand check." Bellatrix Black, heiress to the Black family, perked up at this.

"I'll help you check your wand, my lord!" However it appeared her lord had not heard her as she did not get any response. She frowned most unhappily.

After a few more moments Voldemort began his speech once again.

"Today we gather here tonight to mark the start of a new age. No longer will filthy, or for that matter clean, mudbloods be allowed to roam free. For too long that fool Albus Dumbledore has been given free rein on how to shape our society. Our rightful place has been denied us by a feeble old man. That ends from this day forward. Tonight I grant you, my loyal followers, a name. A name that shall strike fear into the hearts of your enemies, a name that will live on in history as the victors and rulers of the isle of Britain." Here Voldemort paused once again to take another sip of _pure_ spring water. He had learned in his speech giving class that proper pacing was important. Once you made a good point it was clearly a good idea to pause for a moment to let it sink in fully into the minds of a group. Voldemort spared a cursory glance out into the crowd and saw many nods of approval from the gathered crowd. All going according to plan.

Bellatrix sighed wistfully, very happy to bear witness to the man in front of her. She'd gladly bear a lot of things involving him, but that is neither here nor there. At thinking of that perverted thought Bellatrix let out a giggle of perversion. Mind you this sort of giggling was the type that said more "I am a psychotic killer who is going to literally rip your heart out" and less "aww, how cute." Nevertheless, a giggle it was. She could not help herself, the man in front of her was clearly an ideal mate. She saw past his lovely body and into the inner core where an amazing pureblooded man stood. Although those beautiful eyes were nice to look at. He fulfilled every requirement that Bella could ever have hoped to set forth. He was pureblooded, coming from a long line of pureblooded wizards and witches. He was charismatic, his every word sending explosions of ecstasy into Bella's young and still developing mind. He was cunning, he had endless recourses, and he would torture her filthy blood traitor cousin Sirius for hours for her. She hugged herself tightly and continued to gaze star-struck at Lord Voldemort.

Unknown to Bella a young male recruit was looking at her with distaste. He believed a proper pureblood woman belonged in the kitchen or in his sheets, not among them having the honor of doing battle. The fact that this pathetic woman was obviously so infatuated with their lord only made it worse. It was time, the young man decided, to put this wench in her place.

"Oh, ickle wittle Bella woves her voldee?" The disgust in his voice was evident. Bella turned slowly towards the source and a blank look covered her face. The man shuddered, thinking that perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut. With a flick of her wand, well before the man could have even hoped to have reacted, his head was blood clean off of his body. The blood flew over several recruits who were near the man. They thought to complain about to Bella but looking at how the woman was muttering "Ickle Bella loves her Voldee, ickle Bella so lonely" to herself and seemed to not want to be disturbed gave them every excuse to let the subject matter drop.

Lucius Malfoy showed his appreciation for the rising dark lord in a much more stoic manner. He gazed coolly across the room with a sneer. Although to be perfectly fair he had sneered when he had inherited his entire family fortune after his father had ever so unfortunately fallen down a very deep well to his death. A shame too, that well always did have the most refreshing water. Lucius felt like royalty among peasants, even here. As his gaze continued to sweep over his fellow recruits he noticed the greed in their eyes, here for their own self interest. Now, Lucius would not have been sorted into Slytherin if a large part of him was not here for himself as well but he also had a higher purpose to being here. Voldemort, his Lord, was _his_ master and no one else's. Many years ago a younger and similarly mannered Lucius had found a diary in his dorm room. Having more daddy issues than you could shake a wand at, he had immediately began writing into the diary. An understanding man had responded, and thus the timeless love between Lucius and a young Tom Riddle had begun. Lucius took out the diary into his hands and began to write into it.

"Tom, your older self is so confident and magnificent; it is truly an awesome sight to behold." Lucius finished penning his thought and awaited the reply. It came in short order.

**Excellent, I am glad my ability to manipulate hapless fools has not been diminished throughout the years. How has your day gone, Lucy?**

Lucius smiled at his friend's reply. Tom always did like to jest about his friends being hapless and fools. He was such a kidder.

"It had gone very well. Your older self allowed me to waste his Cruciatus Curse earlier, it was really quite lovely, and a huge honor."

**How nice of me. Well, I'll let you get back to your fanatical listening to my every word now, ciao. – Tom**

On the other side of the room Severus Snape, an infamously greasy Slytherin who had yet to graduate from Hogwarts, was practicing scaring a wall into submission. Now, at first glance, or any amount of glances for that matter, this would appear to be totally moronic. However Severus had a very clever purpose in staring at a wall in such a way. He knew this wall had seen the dark lord naked. Clearly if his mere gaze could scare the wall that had seen that then nothing in this world could stop him. While Snape continued his epic staring match with a wall, which did appear to be swearing a little bit if you examined it close enough, Narcissa Black crept up from behind and wrapped her arms around him. Narcissa had always had a crush on Severus, although she was surprisingly shy for her age and had trouble admitting it. Her hands rubbed Severus' chest and she whispered naughty things into his ear, but he never responded to her. In fact his lips had curled into a sneer as he began to show some strain in his amazing duel with the wall. Most men would have put Narcissa against that very wall and made a woman out of her, but Severus Snape it appeared was a different brand of man. Narcissa could only sigh.

_What is his problem? I know I am pretty. Does he like red heads? Guys? … Stags?_ Narcissa pouted and stopped bothering to try to attract Severus's attention. She decided to go over to Lucius Malfoy and shag him instead, at least he showed a little bit of interest in her, unlike everyone else. Unbeknownst to Narcissa her mother, Mrs. Black, had blocked over five thousand marriage proposals since Narcissa had been born. She had several men out there who would have loved to marry her, but her mother hadn't gotten paid millions of galleons from them she like had from the Malfoy line.

Voldemort smiled darkly and continued his speech.

"This name shall be a tribute to me, one who has conquered every last constraint, including death itself. You, my followers, will be known as Death… _Munchers._" Silence reigned all around him, no one moved as their brains tried to process what they had just heard. Finally after a few moments a young recruit stood up. Regulus Black was about to speak, and likely get himself killed, when his neighbor shoved him down and spoke instead.

"My Lord, that sounds terribly stupid," the nameless grunt said this as nicely as he possibly could. He clearly feared Voldemort; that was without question. But even through the haze of fear that usually clouded his judgment the young man could tell when a name was stupid. Alas, his fear of Voldemort would have been well served here. Voldemort smiled down at him.

"Ah, well it seems that we can be mutually beneficial towards each other, in that case." Voldemort walked towards the nameless recruit and the Death Munchers around him scrambled out of the way with no hesitation. When Voldemort spoke again, it was dripping with malice.

"I find your _breathing_ sounds terribly stupid." Voldemort pulled out his wand and his smile thinned. "Let us end both of our misery. Avada Kedavra!" The green light hit the recruit in the chest and he slumped over, dead on the spot.

"Someone send a letter to his parents that he had betrayed me." The recruits nodded, not wanting to displease their lord. The last time he had killed a recruit he had been sent howlers for a week. You couldn't "Crucio!" or 'Avada Kedavra!" away a howler. Oh, how he had tried…

Another figure, a young man with black hair and a tanned complexion, stepped forth and offered his idea. "My Lord, while Death Munchers is certainly a suitable name worthy of our cause, I think Death Eaters would have more of a ring to it." Voldemort's face clouded over for a moment, clearly in thought. After a few moments of consideration he waves his hand at the recruit in clear dismissal.

"No, that name will never do. It sounds far too much like something involving food, and that is not a message I want to send." Voldemort paused here to take a sip of his _pure_ spring water and was about to speak again when the Death Muncher spoke up again.

"My Lord, munchers sounds like it is speaking about food as well-" The man was under a random obscure torture curse before he could finish his sentence. Voldemort's wand inched closer and closer to the man's body, obviously increasing his pain every time he did so.

Severus Snape looked up, feeling victorious over the stony wall to see Voldemort torturing his fellow recruit. He looked back at the wall and then looked at Voldemort. He could do this. Striding forward with all of the confidence beating a wall in a staring contest could possibly afford, Severus Snape spoke.

"My Lord, I agree with him, Death Eaters sounds like a much more appropriate name for our organization."

It was then that Lord Voldemort unleashed his most fearsome power. The ability to whine like a baby.

"But I don't want eaters! I want munchers! Death Munchers! That's final!" Voldemort crossed his arms across his chest and pouted unhappily.

"My Lord, you are acting like a spoiled infant," Severus' tone was critical, and he had the sudden realization that he was a tad bit suicidal for even talking to his lord in this manner.

"Am Not!" Severus sighed mentally, glad his lord had not decided to kill him then and there.

Meanwhile, in the back of the room Bellatrix was having her own conversation. Her voice changed from a high-pitched giggle to a low, manly, and mysterious voice. In each of her hands she held a puppet. One was of Voldemort, in fancy dress robes. The other was of Bella, in a plaid school girl outfit.

"Oh Bella! I, Voldemort, love you so dearly. Please be mine!" Bella moved her left hand, the one with Voldemort on it, in tune to the words she spoke.

"Oh Voldemort, I'll be your wench for all of time!" This line was said with her right hand, sounding suspiciously unlike the real Bellatrix. The Non-puppet Bellatrix sighed in pleasure as the Voldemort puppet began to play with _her_.

In the front of the room Voldemort had managed to compose himself and seemed to be musing over something thoughtfully. In reality he was musing over if he should just kill all of these recruits and start over with people who could appreciate his ability to name things. Voldemort mentally sighed, deciding against it. He would just have to torture them extra hard in order to break them of their free will. Alas, that was for another day.

"Very well, you may have your name, my Death … _Eaters,_" Voldemort said the last word with obvious distaste. "However, I will have the honor of choosing the dress code. Are there any… complaints?" The question was pointed, and the recruits just shook their head as quickly as they possibly have, not wanting to risk any further punishment for the night's proceedings.

"Excellent," Voldemort began, "I hope you all like the color Black."

**A/N:** This is the first of three re-writes to existing chapters. I never promise I am going to update steadily but I have been working on it.

Poll of the Chapter: What character from this time period would you like to see in a scene?

Later,

Chris


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